Porcelain
by Olivia von Dread
Summary: Looking back on that day, he wished that he had never met her. Charon/F!LW


_AN: Hey there people. I'm back again for another Sunday Oneshot. :D Well, I think the last one went pretty okay, and since this was the only oneshot I had completely finished for today I posted it. I'm sorry if it's a little lacking, I had some trouble while writing it. It's another LW/Charon bit, but this time I had some fun experimenting with writing my EvilKarma!LW from Charon's point of view. __Well, for all it's worth I hope you guys like it. I got a lot of views on the last oneshot, maybe this one will get more? _

_Also, reviews would be very appreciated, since I can't properly service you peeps if I don't get feedback. Also, after next week I'll be getting one last planned oneshot off my chest (I hope... maybe two if I'm lucky) and at that point I'd like for you guys to shout out some of your ideas for oneshots you'd like to see me write, if you want. I play both Fallout 3 and Fallout New Vegas, so pretty much anyone's okay, but I'll have you know that I'm a big fan of Benny and Charon. Boone too, but he's just a little bit harder to write. :D Well, without further ado, oneshot number two!_

Porcelain

The dim lights in The Ninth Circle didn't leave much room for looking at people. It was alright with him; he didn't necessarily have a desire to see any of the drunk and loud ghouls that came here to waste their lives away and simultaneously make that rat bastard Ahzrukhal a rich man.

He didn't even care when the smoothskin walked in for the first time. He only watched her to make sure she didn't step out of line. She had sat herself at the bar and bought a beer, which she sipped at with the grace of a princess—a princess of Vault 101, her jumpsuit indicated. It confused him at first. He hadn't seen anyone with table manners since before the war, yet this girl took on every drink she bought with poise. But just like any other unsuspecting person who sat at that bar for too long she was talking to Ahzrukhal and laughing, quietly, politely. Of course she wouldn't know the kind of trap she was getting herself caught in.

Her laugh reminded him of bells. A beautiful sound, which seemed perfect, paired with her posture and her unnecessary elegance. He couldn't hear what they were saying but he could see the side of her face, a polite smile on her lips, her eyes crinkled in amusement and her ears perked and catching every word that Ahzrukhal said.

He wondered what could be so interesting that would keep her listening to him for an hour and a half. Her cornsilk hair was shining in the dim light that was almost directly over her head. Perfect teeth peeked out from beneath rosy red lips, and a light pink tongue lapped at the rim of every finished beer bottle, seeking the final droplets of alcohol waiting for her at the bottom.

She came back, day after day after day. It was almost as if she was living in Underworld now. Some of the more loose lipped patrons had begun speaking of her—Chastity, the 101 Wonder. She came from a vault, she was looking for her father and she had stopped into Underworld for some unknown reason, deciding to help its residents instead of going about her business like any normal smoothskin would have. Some said she was staying because she liked Winthrop, that ghoul that kept the place in order when he wasn't doing a shitty job of repairing the ventilation system. Other said she was trying to get their town drunk, Patchwork, off the bottle. But other people had darker ideas for her.

Some thought she was planning something with Ahzrukhal. And anything he was involved in was bad news.

He didn't want to think that she would do anything like that. The way she looked… That face, bright with life and youth, she couldn't possibly know that Ahzrukhal was the lowest of the low. There was no way she'd know that any deal made with that man would leave something in ruin; usually your pocket, but he'd seen it get worse over the years.

She came back every day for a week and a half. She kept herself up at the bar, away from other customers and within ears of everything the cheap fuck behind the counter had to say. She kept buying her beers, drinking all night long, never once wincing at a lack of caps and never looking a step past buzzed. Ahzrukal liked customers like that—easy to control and they kept coming back for more.

He had to keep wondering why she bothered being in this hellhole. He was never the type to care; nothing mattered to him but his contract, his employer and his gun. Why did he even bother thinking about this perfect porcelain girl, the image of virtue, Chastity, the do-gooder vaultie with the cornsilk hair?

He finally understood.

She stepped up to him, slow, deliberate strides, a small smile on her lips. He could see a splotch of red on her left cheek now that she was so close, almost as if she were blushing. Almost as if she had tried to wipe blood from her face.

"Well, it's been a nice stay here but I'm afraid it's time to go." She held up his contract between perfectly groomed fingers, the smile tugging wider to expose those white teeth. "I'm sure you have… _goodbyes_ for your friend over there, if you know what I mean. Take care of them quickly and let us go. I'm not as used to the stench of this place as I thought I was." She spoke quietly, only for his ears, as she had been doing for Ahzrukhal this whole time. Now that he could hear her voice, not just her _laugh_, unmasked by the chatter of drunks, he knew why it was so easy for her to take up that perch at the bar, knew why some people hadn't necessarily trusted her so easily.

Looking back on that day, he wished he had never met her. It is the world's most harrowing event to watch the porcelain bust you have polished so carefully crash to the ground, shattering to pieces at your feet, and to realize that it was nothing but dirty clay to begin with.

_I don't ever want to meet you_

'_Cause you're like porcelain_

_And I think it would crack if I found you were a brat_

_Stay perfect_

_Stay perfect_


End file.
